Frozen by Icewinds - Grim Black Metal and MDF Report Part Three

You charge through the tundra, but the sun-zero temps is getting to you. First to go are your fingers. They are blackened stumps for the wolves to chew upon. Then your toes. then your nose. Finally, a light in the distance! You stumble through the waist deep snow and knock on the door of the cabin. Corpse painted youths answer the door. You see bones and signs of occult ritual behind them. As you enter the doorway, you feel the axe sever your spine. The black metal necro fiends are ready to feed. Welcome to Norway, motherfucker. It's Metal Night!

First off we heard one of the most devastating black metal albums of all time, Immortal's Pure Holocaust. With thunderous percussion and tremolo swirls does this album dominate the mighty frostlands, nay, I say all the lands that touch ice and sun!!!!! Immortal have a knack for making a three piece, actually a two piece at this time, sound like an invading army of ghouls. And, oh my, is it fast; the tempos are quite rigid and disciplined. This is the sound of the Nordic work ethic destroying Protestants and burning their churches to the ground for Odin. These boys work hard......FOR EVIL!!!! Winner of the bloody night, by a pubic hair.

Gorgoroth's Destroyer, Or How Tom Philosophize With A Hammer, ripped through the speakers with the force of a 1000 galloping hell horses, the self titled first track nearly falling about into noise

before being held in by a wicked riff half way through. These fiends seek no quarter in their quest for the evilest sounds possible. The second and third tracks, Open The Gates and The Devil The Sinner And His Journey, were less rabidly confrontation and more composed, laying bare the cold sonic architecture. This album seems to have as many guest stars as The Tonight Show. Gaahl, the world's most frightening gay man, make an appearance on the first track, as well as necro-fiends Frost and Pest. Overall, a pleasingly grave violating album for the discriminating pervert.

Speaking of Gaahl, the last album we heard was his pre-Gorgoroth/God Seed project Gaalskag. This is simple punk inspired second wave black metal in the early Bathory vein with noise and industrial

bits scattered to and fro. You may want to turn the bass up, as this is a very trebly affair. Avantgard credentials are firmly established here, along with cvlt status. Violates many graves. Rapes many nuns and priests. Satan laughing, spreads his wings.

MDF Report - Day Three

I awoke in the motel with Necro Baby staring blankly from the opposite bed. The final day of Deathfest had come. So far I had seen some pretty sweet bands, but this was the day I signed on for. Mentally, I was preparing for the onslaught of heat and fatigue that was to come by stretching and slathering on sun lotion. I skipped the Kafkaesque breakfast corral for fear that my sanity would drain completely before I ever saw a band. Once again, I made the journey to the heart of monument city

and once again got hopelessly lost searching for this minotaur of metal. When I finally did locate my parking lot the gates were about to open and I rushed out to the freeway underpass, thinking I would

be amoung the first in line, but when I rounded the corner I was disappointed to see the line already stretching over a city block and growing by the second. The time when the gate was supposed to be open passed, then another hour and still I was not really any closer to the front. Time dragged on as we inched agonizingly closer to the fenced egress. I could hear Speedwolf's first tune rumbling fourth from the tent near the entrance. By this time the line was stretching out further than the eye could see, snaking out from the shadow of Interstate 84 into the early afternoon sun. By the beginning of the second song, I was in. Rushing under the canopy where the band was playing to a packed house, I was treated to the first succulent morsel of the day. I was recently introduced to this band by Lars the Berserker and their live set completely exceeded my expectations. The rhythm section was seriously on point, providing a devastatingly simple platform for the Lemmy-worship vocals and 80's style speed metal guitar riffs. Best wake up call I've ever had.

The carnage continued with Cruciamentum , who played some great old school death metal. They started out strong with a blistering version of my favorite track, Fallen In Disease from their Engulfed in Desolation EP. It could have been just my enthusisam for this particular day of the concert, but I thought they were the best straight DM band that played. I was having fun, but my job was about to

get much harder. Across the way, Glorior Belli was starting up, but the Czech death/grind band Contrastic was about to storm the tent. I made my way first to see the the blackened Frenchmen peddle their unholy wares, a hybrid of stoner and black metal (two genres that almost never find common ground.) After the sting of having to miss Aosoth, the raw sounds emanating form the back stage were a soothing balm to my ears. I watched three songs then rushed over to the other side of the grounds where Contrastic were spazzin' out with fury. "Are you ready for our disco metal?" Asked vocalist Putti to the half empty tent. The sparse crowd was a bummer, because this band was really cool, but it was also a blessing as I finally got a chance to rest my dogs for a moment before heading back over to catch the end of Glorior Belli.

I was really excited to see Midnight after sampling some of their tracks on Youtube before my trip and I hope this won't be the last time I cross paths with their filthy blackened thrash. The executioner hoods are a nice touch but this is no gimmick band. You could say they are a newer Venom knockoff and you would be partially right, but these Ohio lads do it with class and a great sounding black metal edge. I would love to see these guys hit GR on their next tour. Pagan Altar is not a band I'm really

familiar with but I really enjoyed their old fashioned 80's style hymns to the elder ones. This band knows how to work the dynamics. Their performance was a time machine and if you closed your eyes, you might even imagine yourself at a 70's hard rock festival with them warming up for Rainbow. As they announced the last song, the crowd began drifting to the middle stage for Sacred Reich. Being one of the only older bands to survive with an intact lineup, I was pretty interesd to see them. They thrashed through tunes from The American Way, Ignorance and the Surf Nicaragua EP. I would have appreciated at least one more song from the oldest days, but it was pretty cool nonetheless.

Manilla Road was at the top of the list of reasons why I came out there in the first place so I grabbed a beer and sandwiched myself into a good spot. A smile spread over my face and the horns were in the air for the next hour as Mark Shelton and crew treated the audience to a good selection of the

band's back catalog, including blazing versions of the two songs I really wanted to hear, The Riddle Master and Lost in Necropolis. I could have listened to them all night, but I felt like i had to check out Integrity over at the tent. Slipping out during the middle of Manilla Road, I popped my head into the tent and got an earful of intense occult hardcore that drew me further and further in, but I just couldn't stay, I had to finish up the set with the Shark and his boys. After two excellent songs from the second Ohio band of the day, I hurried back to catch the last of MR's explosive set. Anticipation had been building all day for Sleep and they were now about to take the stage. The crowd gathered around the main stage in impressive numbers, and the kings of Sabbath worship fired up the spaceship. Now, I don't dislike Sleep, but they have never really done much for me so I hung at the back of the crowd as waves of distortion swept across the ravaged masses. Good set, but somewhat lost on me. 

Soon after the smoke from Sleep's set cleared, the crowd was split in two again as Ascension brought their darkly beautiful style of orthodox black metal across the stage in the tent and doom legends Pentagram lashed the spectators at the opposite end of the festival. Again I rushed back and fourth

between the two, catching The Ghoul and All Your Sins with Liebling and his conglomeration before looking in on the Germans, who played the entirety of thier 2010 album, Consolamentum. I was weary, beaten down and tired but Venom was to be the final band and I intended to check them out at any cost. The show was already running late because Sleep went over on their slot by 20 minutes, so by the time Venom appeared, it was already almost a half hour past their start time. They played every song I wanted to hear though, and everyone was pumped to hear their encore, but the sound got shut off on them. There was violence in the air as some random person got on the mic and told us the show was over. Soon enough, the crowd did what you might expect and tore down the fence, allowing everyone to leave at once. A melee ensued with several security guys surrounded by hundreds of angry metalheads. As I walked out into the frigid spring night cops streamed in from every direction. I leaned against a fencepost and closed my eyes, trying to soak up this moment for all it was worth before the long trek home. 

Until next week, cursed crusaders







Horns

My Atonement - Live thrash and Day Two at Maryland Deathfest

In the hellish moshpits of Waylor, there are no survivors. Ever. Moshing amongst this warrior people is a noble if brutish way to commit ritual suicide. Their battle jackets adorned with razor studs and and armed with Kerry King style gauntlets, this is how they act out there warrior ways in the slow periods between mega-wars. So the bands had better be fucking brutal, lest they be thrown into the bloody pits! Demon Scourge and myself scoured the late 80's for these bands, testing their thrash meddle, to see if they could summon a wall of death worthy of the suicidal hordes of Waylor.

Sodom-Mortal Way of Live certainly lives up to and exceeds the standards of Waylor. This album captures the janky, loose, yet evil feel of their early stuff (compliments of the furious but sloppy skin work of Chris Witchhunter), but improved upon by the exacting axe work of Frank Blackfire. His more precise axework interprets the old riffery in new ways with out sacrificing the  weirdness essential to the enjoyment of early Sodom. Tom Angelripper's bass has a quite prominent place in the mix, making him sound like the Lemmy of German thrash. This power trio bashes them out in brutal succession and this is quite the worthy live album and was the winner of the night. Except Demon Scourge doesn't think so cuz he's teh ghey.



Dark Angel-Live Scars is another worthy live thrash album. This is a brutal affair that showcases this band's mix of German thrash evilness and Bay Area mosh readiness. I should say brutal but brief, as fatigue.this album comes in just under 30 minutes. But it also features some of this band's longest songs, which comprises their greatest weakness. Every thrash band wanted to make the next ....And

Justice For All in the late 80's, and Dark Angel is no exception. The first song is nearly 10 minutes long and is simply a mishmash of riffs and ideas that could have been condensed into three songs. It's vicious hammering, though, and that saves the long songs from causing


 Death Angel-Fall From Grace suffers from a flat production. Comprised of songs from its first 2 albums, the mix is a trebly mush that inadequately captures the band at full force. But fortunately, the songs, furious thrashing, and the relative eclectics of the set still makes this an enjoyable album. The

live feel gives the songs from 'Frolic In The Park' a kick in the ass, and the classics from the first album are reliable chuggers, worthy of Waylor moshing.



Lastly, we heard Bulldozer-Alive...In Poland. These crazy bastards are ready made for Waylor. They give Sodom a run for their evil money. I'm pretty sure that the hordes of Waylor would not pull them down from the stage and cut them to bloody pieces. This is a good sampling of the band that gives ferocious neck wrenching to the listener. Demon Scourge decided he liked this album better than Sodom cuz he's gay for Bulldozer right now. But it not hard to fag out for this band. Check out the crazed lyrics. Come taste the band! Check out some fucking Bulldozer.

MDF Report - Day Two

  

I was up early on Saturday and began to prepare for the second brutal day of my journey into the darkside. Sitting in the dreary hotel lobby and munching on dry biscuits and rubbery sausage, I reflected on the chaos of the previous night. It was interesting to see the multitude of representatives from each of the galaxy of subcultures that make up heavy metal fandom today. From the sludge metal rednecks and skinny metal nerds who looked to still be in high school to the crustiest, pack traveling peace punks, we were all trapped together in that fenced playground. Spanish speaking headbangers with exquisitely designed battle jackets rubbed shoulders with serious looking black metal totalitarians who wore neatly buttoned black shirts, their favorite band's illegible logo sewn on to the pocket or sleeve. The guy with his kids, the individual in the chicken suit, who would continuously crowd surf for the next two days. My own presence in this time and place was wraithlike and fleeting, a lone traveler with a blasphemous baby doll in a sea of black t shirts and unkempt hair. I passed unnoticed through the crowd, an outsider in this festival of outsiders, gathering observations for the Jenkabala court in my pocket notebook.

I arrived early to snag a spot in the cheap lot that adjoins the festival grounds. The sun was shining brightly in the brisk Maryland morning as I made my way through the remote and half abandoned highway commerce zone where my unwholesome looking motel perched upon its hill to the belly of the beast, Baltimore. Having a couple hours to spare, I set out on an expedition into the surrounding area. Wandering through the twisting alleys and steep hills of this venerable city made me wish I had more time to familiarize myself with this mysterious titan, but duty called. When I arrived at the entrance I got the disappointing news that spikes on jackets were verboten, so in addition to not being able to get Necro Baby in, I was now short a battle jacket. At least I still had my notebook and pen, that was all I would really need to get me through the day. 

The first band of the day were a local doom metal outfit, Asthma Castle. Their hardcore tinged doom/sludge had a definite D.C. flavor, complete with tough guy shout vocals. The guitar players were excellent, spicing up the proceedings with some classic twin guitar harmonies. I walked out from the tent after their set into the bright sun and meandered through the vendor area where merchants from around the world were trading in obscure band t shirts and patches. CD's, tapes and records from the most exotic underground bands were there along with bands and labels, hawking their latest offerings. After drooling over some crazy expensive NWOBHM singles, I hit the tent again to catch Kommandant , who after an unbelievably long intro, filled the stage in their leather and gas mask gear and proceeded to pump out some raw black metal in the Swedish mode. The first of many blackened bands I was to witness over the weekend, they were one of the most grim and hateful in the bunch. The wait for Anhedonist to play was mercifully much shorter. The riffs lurched across the barricaded street, the band sorrowfully churning out their hybrid death/doom metal to a captivated crowd. They reminded me of a doom metal Celtic Frost with singer, "V.B." belting out some great death grunts to accompany the morbid music.

The day was really getting underway at this point. It was three pm and a steady trickle of concertgoers continued to fill the yard. The chicken suit guy was back along with a youngster in a banana costume. I was starting to see the first drunks of the day, bumbling about helplessly, looking for a place to sit down. From the tent there was a slow guitar riff and Loss began playing their set. Drawing heavily from their sole full length, Despond, they reminded me a bit of Shining or Forgotten Tomb with blackened vocals married to agonizingly slow riffs, grinding like tectonic plates that inch inevitably to disaster. In some strange way I would consider what I heard a heavy metal analogue to Joy Division's Closer. After this set, the show finally moved out of the tent and to the far outside stage, where the Danish DM band, Iniquity was about ready to start. It was pretty exciting to finally see some real Death Metal at Deathfest. Despite them getting shafted with a loud, distracting buzz (a big problem on this stage) they were pretty exciting to watch. I was starting to get fatigued from standing, but the brutal blasting coming from the stage would not let me sit. The hyper fast rhythms were a welcome change from the mournful artistry of the first part of the day. By the time they played their last tune, Son of Cosmos, I was ready to take in the first of tonight's round of sludge and doom, Weedeater. Mr. Collins and company were already pouring molten lava from the stage when I made it around to the main stage area. The heavy ass sludge that surrounded the audience was indeed impressive, if not fully my cup of tea, but I was intrigued by their straight ahead blues approach, as much Jon Spencer as Black Sabbath. Fittingly enough, they covered Lynyrd Skynyrd's Gimmie Back My Bullets (featuring Pepper Kennan on vocals.) The sun was sinking lower in the sky as The Obsessed took the stage. I have always been a big fan of Wino's Ozzy like drawl and his band pushed the night into doom metal overload. I found them to be more palatable than Weedeater (perhaps because I'm more familiar with this band's catalog) but they also struck me as a highly blues based band. Wino and his band treated the audience to a show that was heavy with songs from the first album but Streamlined from The Church Within was the highlight of the show for me. As the applause for The Obsessed's last song was fading away, I heard the sound of another band from around the corner and rushed over to try and get a good view.

Broken Hope are famous for their outre sex and gore lyrics and their late singer, Joe Ptacek, who was said to have one of the lowest voices in all of death metal. The band was tight and former Gorgasam singer, Damian "Tom" Leski did a good job of replicating the former singer's hellish growls on material from their early-entry classics like Hobo Stew, Into the Necrosphere and Pitbull Grin, witch they dedicated to their fallen comrade. I enjoyed seeing more death metal, even though Broken Hope, as I would notice later, is a love it or hate it proposition among true fans. Dusk was setting in as the Melvins took the stage. I have seen this band perform a number of times and they are always good. I thought their inclusion on this particular bill was a little weird. I would have preferred to see more death or black metal, but I can see why they wanted to include them, as the festival's mission seems to be a presentation of all heavy music, without regard for genre. Their slot was filled with tunes from the early days. I loved hearing them play this material and was pretty surprised to see a bunch of people you would never expect to be Melvins fans singing along with the twisted jams emanating from the stage. My wait for something more extreme ended when Canada's Revenge started shredding faces behind us in the tent. Luckly for me i was in the back of the crowd for the Melvins, so I got to see this band from a better vantage point that I had all day and I was ready for some war metal. There were no slow parts in this portion of the evening, no dynamics to speak of and no mercy from the canucks before us. They started out at full bore and devastated the canvas enclosure for an hour then walked off the stage with no fanfare. I thought it was perfect.

Seeing Down was one of the things I was least excited about at Deathfest. I have tried a few times to really sit down and get into this band, but they just don't do it for me. The other five thousand people there definitely did not agree. From what I heard, they played a kind of shortened version of the Diray Of A Mad Band setlist. I was relived when I heard Vinterland, whose position was moved from five to ten, blasting the fuck out of the tent behind me. They played almost all of their legendary Welcome To My Last Chapter album and it was not just off the chain, but down the street gnawing on a jogger's leg. I was picking my jaw up off the ground after they finished off with a glorious Wings of Sorrow and I picked up my aching feet and headed back to the car to weave my way out of the confusing streets, now filled with drunken bumblers, spilling from the festival gates to downtown hotels. 

 

Until next week, brain thrashers, 

Horns 

Fists Held High - Day One of Maryland Deathfest and the Jenkabala Aftermath

A life of rampage and total devastation upon heathen lands takes a toll on the old body. A weekend of such debauchery can send a warrior to weariness, then despair, and then  the vomiting of blood on your own coffin. Best to have a day where you simply kick back, lift your leather jack boots upon the back of some troll wench, and commence the rejuvenation rituals by drinking the blood of a fetus. Put on something familiar, something that says 'home'. Put on some fucking metal from the 80's!

First, we heard Canadian heshers Razor, and their first album, Executioner's Song. Razor are arguably the best pure thrash band to come from the frozen north, and this is the best album they ever made. Every song is an unpretentious thrashterpiece, riff after riff having its way with your woman. No nods to prog whatsoever, many to punk, and some furious headbutts to Venom and Accept. 'Fast and Loud' is a crystal meth anthem for the ages, and cops the requisite Motorhead riffs that such odes to adrenaline require. The production may be a bit janky for some, and this album could use a bit more lower end, but trebly mix does endow the sound with cvlt black metal atmosphere. Somewhere in the Norwegian forests around this time, Fenriz erects his first altar, the lyrics to 'Canadian Metal' swimming somewhere in his sub-conscious. Winner!!

Next up, Paul Dianno's Battlezone and their first album, Fighting Back. Dianno, of course, is the former Iron Maiden belter, and I suppose his royalty checks ran out when he decided to form this band. It is serviceable heavy metal with some good songs here and there, but most of the batch barely rises above mediocre. Dianno is in fine form here, his vocals are still a whiskey scarred rasp, but loaded with more heavy metal power yelping. Battlezone is an apt moniker, as they are able to summon a hellish fury, and its sad that they did not go further than they did. Hilariously ironic is the song Welfare Warriors, which is typical dole bashing from a guy who would be sent to prison for welfare fraud a few years later.


Lastly, we listened to Chicago's Thrust and their solidly old school offering Fist Held High. This screaming iron fest from 1984 is like a time capsule of a mind set that will never authentically be captured again, featuring soldiers of Satan, torture chambers of lust, and odes to beating up posers. It is proto spped metal with a street metal vibe that Chicago band seem to capture well. Place this album up against Kill "em All and you'll see that they are idealogical brothers and you'll wonder why it wasn't Thrust that went on to be the biggest band in the world. The lyrics were just as stupid, and the songs just as much of a amalgamation of Venom, Motorhead, Priest, and the blessed NWOBHM. Posers must die is such a perfect anthem. And this album has a much more righteous cover.

Maryland Deathfest. For years I heard of this legendary festival, read the incredible schedules and promised myself I would make it out to the much maligned city of Baltimore for what is fast becoming a must-do weekend pilgrimage for the most dedicated metal fans around the world. Circumstances had always prevented your author from finally experiencing this event firsthand. I was content with reading the festival reports and eagerly seeking out the up and coming bands who yearly offered up the fruits of their art unto a great buffet of all things heavy and extreme for a legion of hungry fans. This, however was to be the year of Metal Night at the Westside Palace, so my birthday and Halloween present to myself was a ticket to the halls of legend, a dirty street corner in the heart of an aging metropolis where a horde of headbangers from the bowels of hell swarm up to delight in the eltrich melodies from dimensions unknown.

Last Friday, I packed Necro Baby and set out from Jenkabala Palace in the misty dawn on this quest of heroes. Through slohio and Pennsylvania we traveled, through the mighty Alleghenies to our

temporary quarters, a squat motel perched atop a sloping hill that overlooked chain stores and fast food shops piled atop one another like some demented commercial bivouac. We set up camp in the run down way station and headed into Baltimore, snaking through the labyrinthine recesses of its crumbling streets until we finally located the festival grounds. Everywhere I could see black clad minions of the devil's music heading into the shadowy freeway underpass, so we parked in a nearby lot and made our way to the security checkpoint.

Upon entering, I was transfixed by the mass of mesmerized metalheads loitering there in the cold, grey afternoon. Walking immediately to the first place I heard music, I was rewarded with the funeral doom band Evoken, whose ultra-heavy reflections on solitude shook the ground as I settled into the waiting arms of Maryland Deathfest. I loved the Tom G. Warrior death grunts and the wrought iron candelabras flanking the band. Their protracted, keyboard heavy compositions reminded me favorably of My Dying Bride or a less tween oriented Opeth.

My first hour at the fest flew by and it was time to witness the first of many bands that drew me in. Repulsion didn't waste any time in grinding out their trademark tunes. Anything you wanted to hear, they played (Singer and bassist Scott Carlson joking at one point "Stick around and you'll hear your favorite song. We only got one fuckin' album!") The guitar solos were out of control, skidding across octaves as bodies of crowd surfers flew over the audience’s heads, converse meeting face over and over. My jaw was hitting the floor as I heard awesome renditions of songs I never once thought I would ever see performed live (a recurring theme over all three days.) Even after the dust has settled, this set remains one of my favorites.

As I walked around the corner to the next stage, Righteous Pigs were firing up the buzzsaw guitars and launching into a raucous set of tunes from their two legendary LP's, Live and Learn and Stress

Related. Having never experienced the Las Vegas based band that gave us Mitch Harris, I was pleasantly surprised as the furious four doled out their short blasts of grimy, juvenile hardcore dipped in Harris' sweet metallic riffing. Singer Joe Caper was working the crowd with his unhinged stage banter ("This is a metal show, ya dickheads, DO somethin'. Mosh or punch the guy in the left of ya in the face, come on people!") I don't know if he was quoting Ozzy, but he kept admonishing the crowd, "let's have a riot!" Musically I felt like they owed a lot to the Chicago style of rough punk tinged street metal exemplified by bands like Znowhite and Zoetrope. This is one band I'm sure will be included in the next grindcore night at Jenkabala.

Anticipation was building in the frigid, starless night as everyone gathered in front of the main stage for Friday's main attraction, the titans of tech death, the sultans of goregrind, Carcass. Soon, the smoke machines were pumping out an evil fog as the video screens on either side of the stage flickered to life with nasty surgical footage and the band began blasting through their career spanning set, drawing heavily on Heartwork and Necrotisim. By the time the H.G. Lewis sample kicked off Symposium of Sickness, I was carried away by the absolute mastery this incarnation of the band displayed in pulling off convincing renditions of their groundbreaking discography. I saw many shoes lost in the crowd surfing melee. Flawless victory.

I wacthed Pelican's post-post everything musings for a few songs then headed into the icy Baltimore night, walking past scores of homeless people bundled in sleeping bags, sheltering beneath the overhang of the police garage. The wind blew through my battle jacket and chilled my bones as I found my way to the lot where Necro Baby waited in the Jenkabala transport and we weaved our way back to the hotel in a torturous bout of trial and error driving. After scarfing down some drive-through junk food I drifted off into a heavy, dreamless slumber. The gates were open and I was ready for the glory that would be the offerings of Saturday's children.